Our thoughts are mere drops in the bucket. Here are my candid views on life, marriage, motherhood, children, religion, politics, and relationships . . . and some photography and poetry mixed in for good measure. Enjoy.

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Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Illusions

DECLARATION: We all live under the illusion that if we just work hard enough and want it bad enough, that life will become easier. That's a bunch of bull shit and the sooner we realize it, the sooner we will not feel so horribly when things go wrong. They always go wrong.

2 comments:

There was a news story once about the current generation of workers, basically asking the question if the Y (and post-Y) generation are "lazy"? It was pretty interesting, albeit they had a rather ambiguous wrap-up (I think they tried too hard to narrow the question down into something they could answer simply). There definitely seems to be a problem with our collective view of "work ethics" in general. I'll concede that no one ever "made it big" in the world by working 9 to 5, Monday through Friday, but between the 70-year-old man who worked 12 hour days, 7 days a week at the mill for 50 years with only a watch to show for it and the high-school graduate who bought a lottery ticket on his 18th birthday, won the jackpot, and therefore never has to work the rest of his life, there's got to be a middle ground that's "good enough" where we're not lazing about yet not working ourselves to death, either. That's where our perceptions come in, namely those of others. There's a saying about artists (it's typically applied to writers, but I think it can be broadened) that even though they may only spend a few hours a day, maybe a few days a week actually sitting at the desk "working", the fact is that they're never NOT working. When I would get home from T-Mobile, I never took work home with me, there wasn't any need to and nothing I could have if I wanted to. On the other hand, my videos, writings, illustrations, photographs, and even music, those never get left behind; they're constantly in my head, and I don't even have a paycheck riding on any of those. I'm always mapping out scenes, looking for subjects, listening for unusual sounds, anything that has to do with my art, it's always there, even if for all intents and purposes I don't really want it there. I used to joke with my brother that if I ever became self-employed or had to work from home, my workspace would have to be a shed in the farthest corner of the backyard, and there'd have to be a hedge-maze between it and the house so that by making the "commute" slightly tedious, there'd be some "psychological distance" to keep me sane.